The Blade of Glory

The prolouge of a story that I am writing.

Prologe:

I lay here silently, depressed and in the blue. I'm staring at the razor blade that I have obtained from a long search. Music is usually my way out, but tonight it's pulling me deeper.

The scars from previous attempts temp me more and more to fall into the black. I hold the razor in my right hand, nearing it to my left wrist. I'm shaking like I'm freezing, though it's hotter than hell.

I feel invinicble...almost fearless. I slowly drag the razor against my skin, leaving a trail of red. The blood bubbles, and instanlty bursts when it reaches the surface. I panic, but try not to scream. I don't remember it hurting this much last time.

It's all going black. I hear voices. I try not to think about them.

It's not my time to go...it's the beginning of my story.